This was emailed to me by a teen called 'Felix' today. Felix is thirteen and a half and lives in Bangladesh. I have been corresponding with Felix for some time. Over the weeks, I have been privileged to receive glimpses into his life. A part of me wants to travel to Bangladesh and sit with him, and have a day long chat. Maybe a week-long chat, maybe a forever chat. A part of me wants to hug him and cry with joy. A part of me wants to take him away, bring him here and enjoy first-hand his forays into an adulthood free from the many restrictions - be they cultural, familial or political - that he is facing. A part of me remains ever in awe, humbled both by his intellect and his tenacity. 

I have copied and pasted the contents of this email without any editing. There was NO editing needed...

"The self who began his life as a perfectly normal average individual. Who was like everyone else was at thattime.

The self who was then locked for years in a prison called home. Never allowed to go outside. To experience life as everyone else. So this self chose another way to safeguard communication with the outside world. This self began spending over 6 hours a day in front of a TV screen. Watching a multitude of things. But this multitude of things was not in his mother language. It was in another language. It was a tongue simpler than his mother tongue. This self, along with his elder brother, learned this new language efficiently. This self and his brother spoke to each other in it.

This self watched many cartoons. His appetite for entertainment was vast. In the middle of the advertisements, this self made up alternate versions of these cartoons in his head. This self looks back on it now and realizes it was akin to fanfiction. This self imagined hundreds of cartoons like this. This self's imagination grew. This self was unaware it would serve him well later in life.

When this self started school, the first two years were normal. As normal as any other self's childhood. In 2nd grade when he transferred to a different school, things changed... Drastically.

In this new school, this self had to tackle things he never imagined he would. This school was a religious school and it was poor in quality. This self did not want to transfer there, but had to due to a zealous father. This self was ridiculed there. You see, this self has a perfect American accent in English. But in his mother tongue, his accent is strange. The other students there couldn't understand many of his words because many English words leaked into his Bengali speech. They called him mental. They made his life hell for three years. The teachers there would hit the students with weapons: sticks, iron rods, etc., if they did not perform well in class. This self never had to worry about that. His performance was good. He called this school 'the garbage dump' for many years. He now calls it the 'shit bowl of the nether world'. (Hell)

But in spite of the grueling ten years in that bowl of festering shit, there were good moments as well. Many good moments. For starters, this self was first in class there. He was more intelligent than everyone there. He wondered why they ridiculed him for being him. He came to the conclusion they were retarded. For this was the place where zealous religious families sent their below average children. They couldn't accept this self as different, because they were inferior. This self thinks that deep down, they knew that, but were too dumb to process it. This self also skipped two of the four classes for six months when he was in the 2nd grade. They never caught him. This self rather liked that fact.

This self had two good friends there. They were both good people. Though they didn't think for themselves all that much. They were rather simple. One of them was just a nice guy. The kind of guy anyone would want as his friend. The other, was a bit too competitive. He could be a real ass at times. His mother ruined his education. She admitted him into an educational program with only one subject on the curriculum. The Holy Quran. They would memorize it without understanding it and waste the most important years of their lives. They wouldn't waste it by learning the Quran; they would waste it by completely shutting out every other subject. This self also got near maximum marks on all the tests. That was quite fun while it lasted.

After 3 years of that hell, this self now got into a private school. This was another bad year. They ridiculed him as well. Only, there were many students there better than this self. And he made friends with next to no-one there. That was a really bad year. The last two months were particularly bad but this self will not disclose the reasons for that here.

Came 6th grade. This self was now in another school. This one is the best in his city. It is a public school with an average of over 140 students per classroom. It sounds like hell but it's actually an over 120 year old school with an incredible reputation of many champs graduating from here. This self has yet to find many good friends here and he is still ridiculed but less, because students here have more life experience. They've met different people with differences in almost everything. So they're not like the ones before.

This self has been creative all his life. He has wanted to share this creativity with others but never could. Now, after being exposed to many of the arts, he can. He used to write. But just writing wasn't enough for him anymore. He needed more. He now has found more in drawing. But that still isn't enough. The characters aren't speaking. The images aren't moving. So he hopes to be a cartoon director one day. He wants to share these stories he has created. He wants to express his creativity.

He thinks a lot. This self uses his brain needlessly on almost everything. Through this thought, this self has gained a much clearer understanding of life. He now understands that to know more about anything, one has to know the why and how of it. He has developed many theories and in practice they almost always prove themselves right. He holds many ideals. He strives towards one goal.

This self thinks that one cannot hate someone if they don't even know that someone. Nor can they love a person they do not know in person. Hate and love are both very powerful things. One should have firm control over both in order keep composure in every situation. Another ideal this self holds is that, one must always seek the why of every action. The world isn't black and white. It's gray. Most of it. So in order to truly unravel every truth behind something, one must take the point of view of the person or persons committing an action and one must dissect it in order to know why. Why is the basis of everything. Why, what and how, these together compose the basis of knowledge is what this self believes.

As you can see, this self doesn't fit in anywhere let alone here. He is unique. It is hard to find someone like him. But this self still searches for a friend with similar interests. With similar thoughts. He has yet to find anyone like this in real life. Although on the internet, he has met very few people like this. He holds the hope that they are out there, somewhere. Also looking for people like him. This self could go on and on and on about his life, his memories, his thoughts, his experiences, but he chooses not to. If he ever writes a memoir, he will detail these further there. And that's it for this self."